


'Til The Bone Crush

by ScienceFantasy93



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Arthur is a jealous idiot, Arthur is really freaking angsty, Arthur's POV, Gwen is a Good Friend, M/M, Merlin is oblivious AF, Morgana roasts Arthur, Sort of obsession, but he's okay, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScienceFantasy93/pseuds/ScienceFantasy93
Summary: Arthur sinks into the bathwater, closing his eyes. He can feel Merlin scrubbing the parts of him that he can’t reach, and suddenly it feels meaningless and cheap. He doesn’t want Merlin scrubbing him if Merlin doesn’t mean it. And so he wrestles the soap and washing cloth away from the servant and declares that he’ll do it himself.And he does. It’s not as nice or as pleasant as having Merlin do it, but he gets the job done. He even manages to wash and rinse his hair, even as his servant stands back with a look of bewilderment on his face.When Arthur stands up, Merlin steps forward with a towel, but Arthur snatches it out of his grasp. “I can do it. I’m not completely useless, you know.”Merlin looks more confused than ever. “But I thought that was your calling card. You know, useful in the saddle, useless everywhere else.”Or: Arthur walks in on Merlin with a girl. But he's not jealous. Definitely not.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 219





	'Til The Bone Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Gold Rush" by Taylor Swift.
> 
> This fic was inspired after I rewatched season 2 episode 9 "Lady of the Lake". We finally see Merlin have something of a love interest, and it got me thinking what would happen if Arthur walks in on Merlin with a girl he's into. Especially since we can all be pretty sure that Merlin and Arthur love each other, they just won't admit it 😂
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

Arthur is pretty sure he’s never met a more incompetent servant than Merlin.  
  
Sure, Merlin has his good qualities. No matter how much mud and grass Arthur’s armor accumulates, Merlin always manages to get it shiny and clean. Arthur’s bath water is (almost) always the perfect temperature. And Arthur’s dinner is (usually) laid out for him on time, with meal requests passed on to the kitchen with perfect accuracy.  
  
Merlin is also snarky and sarcastic and gives as good as he gets from Arthur. It’s a trait that Arthur can reluctantly appreciate. But Merlin also has this odd habit of disappearing.  
  
Like right now.  
  
Arthur has a joust tomorrow, and his armor is _filthy_. It looks as though it was dragged through a swamp – mainly because Arthur was wearing it while chasing a monster through a swamp. And now he needs his servant, and his servant is nowhere to be found.  
  
He eyes his armor. Muck has dried up inside the chainmail links. Mud splatters the plates. Even the gloves aren’t immune, because he was wearing them while pulling his horse out of the swamp. In short, it’s a very unpleasant job, and the only one who Arthur knows will pull this off is Merlin. And so, he goes hunting for his servant.  
  
He runs into Gaius, who’s on his way to purchase more herbs. Gaius hasn’t seen him. Arthur makes his way to Lady Morgana’s chambers, where she and Gwen are gossiping over cups of tea. They look up when he walks into the outer chamber.  
  
“Don’t you knock?” Morgana demands in irritation. “I know your manners have always been a bit boar-ish, but this is bad, even for you.”  
  
“Have you seen Merlin?” Arthur responds, ignoring Morgana’s comment about his manners. “I need him to clean my armor for me, and I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”  
  
“Well, here’s a thought,” Morgana says archly. “Perhaps you could clean your own armor.”  
  
Arthur snorts. “Uh, no. That’s servant’s work – sorry, Gwen,” he adds hastily to the maid, while thinking that this is probably a huge reason why he and Gwen are no longer courting. Of course, she’d said as much to him when she’d broken it off, but he admittedly hadn’t really been listening. He’d been too busy thinking about how Merlin had sarcastically asked if he needed to feed the prince by hand that morning. Arthur still isn’t sure which part of that he’d been focused on – Merlin’s suggestion that he’s useless, or the very thought of Merlin handfeeding him strawberries the way a lover might. Usually he tries not to think about it, because the idea is _disturbing_. So very disturbing. So disturbing, in fact, that it’s even more disturbing than that time Uther married a troll and bedded her. And even in Camelot, things don’t usually get more disturbing than that.  
  
“No offense taken, My Lord,” Gwen says politely with the air of someone whose heard it all before – probably because she has. “I’d be happy to clean your armor for you.” She sounds as if she’s gritting her teeth, but as he’s just unwittingly pointed out, she _is_ a servant and it’s her duty to help the prince in any way she can.  
  
“Oh – oh no,” Arthur backtracks hastily. He can’t imagine letting Gwen take the special brush that Merlin uses to his armor. “It’s filthy, it’s been through a literal _swamp_. I wouldn’t let my worst enemy clean that.”  
  
“Yet you’re more than happy to make Merlin do it,” Morgana points out sweetly. “How considerate of you.”  
  
Arthur growls his frustration and turns on his heel. “If you don’t know where Merlin is, I’ll just have to go and find him myself!”  
  
“That’s the spirit!” Morgana calls after him. “Show you’re capable of doing something for yourself for once! Independence, Arthur! Show us how independent you are!”  
  
He responds with a very rude gesture and a slam of her door. Feeling vaguely satisfied, he decides to check the chambers that Merlin shares with Gaius. Perhaps Merlin has returned since Gaius left. This is confirmed when Arthur asks a passing servant if they’ve seen Merlin, and the servant says that he spotted Merlin heading back to the physician’s quarters. And so Arthur trots his way to the chambers Merlin and Gaius live in. He doesn’t bother knocking and it doesn’t matter, because the door is unlocked. He lets himself in and a quick visual scan of the living space tells him that Merlin is nowhere in sight. But he hears a bumping noise upstairs, and figures that Merlin must be in his tiny, cramped bedchamber.  
  
Arthur has never been sure how Merlin manages to sleep in such close quarters, with that tiny, narrow bed. He sat down on it once and nearly yelped when he realized how hard and uncomfortable it is. He knows that compared to what Merlin grew up with it must seem almost luxurious, but Arthur can’t help but think that he could secure Merlin a much more comfortable bed than that. After all, how can his servant be well-rested if he’s sleeping on something that’s pretending not to be a plank of wood?  
  
But now is not the time to question Merlin’s sleeping patterns. Arthur is sure that Merlin is doing something of no importance, maybe sneaking a second breakfast or reading one of those awful romance novels that he seems to find amusing. And so, Arthur softly creeps up the stairs and pauses outside the closed door.  
  
He hears a rustling noise and a low murmuring sound. Is Merlin talking to himself? Arthur knows that Merlin can be a little odd, so talking to himself would seem downright normal compared to some of the stuff Merlin has said or done.  
  
Arthur pauses for just a moment. He supposes he could just knock on the door and announce his presence, but he’s annoyed. Irritated. Aggravated. He does not appreciate Merlin just vanishing into thin air when he needs him. And he wants to startle the other boy. He wants to remind him that Arthur can be sneaky, too. And so he grips the doorhandle and slowly, quietly, shifts the door open just a bit.  
  
He peeks through the crack and suddenly feels as though his lungs have filled with water, as though his blood has turned to sawdust. His heart skips a beat or two, but it doesn’t matter, because it’ll forever beat out of rhythm after this. Arthur is sure of this.  
  
Because it’s not just Merlin lying on that hard, narrow bed. A girl who Arthur recognizes as a noblewoman’s latest handmaid is beside Merlin. Arthur watches in a mix of horror and fascination and disgust as Merlin cups her face in his hands and leans in, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss is long and slow, sweet and gentle. It’s a side of Merlin that Arthur has never seen, never even considered might exist. He’s only ever been exposed to the jaded, smartass servant, not to the sweet and gentle lover. But here Merlin is, kissing the girl like it’s the only thing he could ever want to do, like it’s the only way he’ll be able to continue breathing.  
  
She gasps against his mouth and her hands slide up to his shoulders, shoving his coat off.  
  
Arthur has seen enough.  
  
Stomach churning with nausea, eyes stinging with something that most certainly cannot be tears, he quietly closes the door and somehow manages to make his way back down the stairs and out into the corridor without making much noise.  
  
There’s a lump in his throat now that makes swallowing nearly impossible. Perhaps he’s coming down with a cold. That would also explain why he’s sniffling and why his eyes are watering so badly. Because he is _not_ crying. He can _not_ be crying. Arthur can’t cry over a stupid, useless servant snogging another stupid, useless servant. It’s not as though he’s in love with Merlin. But it’s also not as if he’s ever looked twice at the maid, so she’s not the reason his throat feels constricted and a tear has just slid down his cheek.  
  
He wipes it away hurriedly, trying to get himself under control. He has to get back to business, whether he feels like it or not. Obviously Merlin is indisposed, and so Arthur has no choice but to ask Gwen to clean his armor. It’s not something he particularly relishes doing, but she offered and she is the daughter of a blacksmith, so she knows something about that.  
  
He must be oddly quiet while Gwen is scrubbing his armor, staring out the window and trying to forget what he’d seen in Merlin’s bedchamber. All he knows is that Gwen looks up at him and asks, “Is something troubling you?”  
  
He wants to tell her “no”. That there is nothing wrong and everything is just fine. But what comes out of his mouth is the actual truth: “I walked in on Merlin kissing a maid.”  
  
Gwen doesn’t look surprised as she digs into the cracks of his armor with the brush. “Oh yes, Elena. She’s a maid for – “  
  
“I know who she is,” Arthur snaps, and immediately regrets it. “I’m sorry. I don’t – I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. I haven’t been able to get the sight of him kissing her out of my head.”  
  
Gwen purses her lips, but it’s not in disapproval. It’s in _sympathy_. And somehow that’s even worse. “Do you not like him taking on a lover?” she asks gingerly.  
  
Arthur nearly chokes at the question. “Surely they’re not – they can’t be – “ Then he remembers the way the maid – Elena – shoved Merlin’s coat off his shoulders, a practiced gesture. “ _Merlin_?”  
  
Gwen shrugs. “It’s not as though Merlin confides in me who he’s sleeping with, but I’ve caught Elena sneaking out of his chambers in the early hours of the morning.”  
  
Arthur’s head spins and he sinks down into one of his overstuffed chairs. This has clearly been going on for some time, and he had no idea. He might never have known if it wasn’t for Merlin disappearing at a very inconvenient moment.  
  
“Is she nice?” Arthur finally chokes out. “Is she – will she treat him well?”  
  
Gwen smiles, though it’s not exactly a happy smile. It’s the look _Merlin_ gave him when Arthur assured him that he was fine after things ended between him and Gwen. It’s sympathetic, yes, but it’s more than that. It’s understanding, reassuring, comforting. And it’s _Gwen_ giving it to him because _Merlin_ has a lover.  
  
“She’s very nice, very sweet,” Gwen assures him. “She’ll treat him well.”  
  
“That’s – that’s good to hear. Really, that’s all I was concerned about. You know Merlin, he’s so sensitive. He can’t be with someone who’s going to be nasty to him. Someone who dumps cold water on him or chucks drumsticks at him.”  
  
Gwen quirks an eyebrow. “Someone like you, you mean?”  
  
“Oh, does that describe me? I wasn’t even thinking about that – that would be ridiculous, Guinevere.” Arthur struggles to project some royal haughtiness and dignity back into his voice. “Merlin and me? We’re both men.”  
  
“You know there are some men who prefer men, and some women who prefer women,” Gwen says mildly. “And some who prefers both.”  
  
“Of course I know. And that’s all well and good. But I like _women_. I liked you, didn’t I?”  
  
Gwen smiles for real. “You liked me just fine, My Lord. But I was never the only one on your mind.” She pauses before leaning forward. She’s no longer scrubbing his armor but he barely notices. “If you want my opinion, I think the reason you were so drawn to me is because I reminded you of Merlin. A servant, someone who stood up to you and reminded you that you’re not the be-all, end-all of the world. You liked that. But I was never entirely the one you wanted. Merlin was the one who occupied your thoughts. And we both knew it.”  
  
Arthur is so stunned by her proclamation that he can’t think of anything to say to that. With a simple shrug, Gwen returns to his armor, satisfied that she has said her piece.  
  
She may be satisfied, but Arthur sure as hell is not. All he can think about is the idea that Gwen was merely a filler for Merlin, a slightly more acceptable version of Merlin simply because she’s a girl. Someone who no one would question him gravitating towards. Someone who the court could gossip about but a true scandal would never erupt simply because she’s not Merlin.  
  
He’s still thinking about this when the door to his bedchamber swings open and Merlin steps in. His hair is rumpled, and he’s got his neckerchief draped around his collarbone. Normally Arthur doesn’t think much of that neckerchief, but right now he’s certain that it’s to hide a hickey that Elena left. _Elena_. He can’t even think her name without mentally sneering it. He hates her. He hates Merlin. He hates them both. He hopes they’re so very happy together when he’s so damn miserable. He can’t even look at Merlin as the other boy closes the door behind him.  
  
“Morgana said you were looking for me?” Merlin queries.  
  
“I was,” Arthur says shortly. “I’m not now.”  
  
Merlin is undeterred. “What did you need me to do?”  
  
“Clean my armor, but as you can see, Gwen is taking care of it. At least I knew where to find her.”  
  
It's not nearly as bad as some of the stuff Arthur has said to him, but there must be some stormy undercurrents in his tone because Merlin looks a little stunned.  
  
“Well…okay. If that’s all you needed.”  
  
“It’s all I needed.” Arthur still hasn’t look at him. He can’t bear to peer into those startling blue eyes and know that just an hour ago some girl he’s never thought twice about was gazing into those same eyes as she moaned out his name.  
  
“Well…okay,” Merlin says again, sounding more uncertain than before. Out of the corner of Arthur’s eye, he can see Merlin backing out of the room, and the door swings shut behind him.  
  
The second he’s gone, Gwen turns back to Arthur. “So, what are you going to do? Because you can’t go through life avoiding all eye contact with Merlin and pretending you’re not hurting.”  
  
“Sure I can.”  
  
“No, you _can’t_ ,” she says firmly. “You need to figure this out, Arthur. You couldn’t figure us out. Please for the love of god, don’t throw away something with Merlin simply because of court standards.”  
  
“He’s with someone else.”  
  
“But what if he felt the same way about you?” she presses. “What if he’s secretly in love with you, wishing he could have you but thinking he can’t, so he’s making do with Elena?”  
  
“It didn’t look as though he was simply _making do_ with her,” Arthur mumbles darkly.  
  
“But what if he is? What if _you’re_ the one he’s been pining for?”  
  
He doesn’t believe that, not for a second. Something in his expression must convey this, because Gwen falls silent as she finishes up his armor. At last she straightens up, smoothing out her skirts. “You need to do something about this, Arthur. One way or another, you need to do something.”  
  
“Thank you for cleaning my armor, Guinevere.”  
  
She nods and curtsies, before leaving his chamber.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Arthur has no appetite. The roast venison is one of his favorite meals, but it tastes like straw. Chewing and swallowing are difficult right now, on account of the lump in his throat that he’s been fighting against. It doesn’t help that Merlin is waiting on him, topping off his wine goblet and keeping an eye on the bath water heating over the fire.  
  
“Are you – uh – sick?” Merlin asks awkwardly as he notices the way Arthur is merely picking at his food. “You’ve barely touched your dinner. Is the venison a touch too stringy?” He raises an eyebrow in that way he has that tells Arthur Merlin thinks he’s being too picky.  
  
“No. Everything’s fine. I’m just not hungry.”  
  
“ _Are_ you sick?” Merlin repeats with a touch more concern.  
  
“Of course not. Just nervous about tomorrow.”  
  
Now _that’s_ a lie. Arthur doesn’t get nervous before jousts, and Merlin knows this.  
  
“No you’re not,” Merlin retorts. “You don’t get nervous before jousts. You always sweep in and kick ass. What’s really going on?”  
  
“ _Nothing_ ,” Arthur snaps, and this time he doesn’t apologize. Merlin doesn’t deserve his apology. “There’s nothing going on. I’m just not hungry. God! Aren’t you the one telling me I should lose some weight a few months ago?”  
  
“Yes, but that was also so that I could sneak food out for Freya,” Merlin says matter-of-factly. And there’s another name that Arthur suddenly finds he doesn’t want to repeat. Freya. A cursed Druid girl who Merlin fell in love with, only for her to die in his arms. Merlin told Arthur the story after they’d both had a few too many goblets of ale. At the time Arthur had felt awful for Merlin, but there was also a strange feeling of relief under the sadness. He’d simply thought that it was because Merlin hadn’t gotten injured by the girl’s curse, but now he’s wondering if it was something else. And doesn’t that make him a terrible person, to be relieved that a dead girl is out of the way? Yes. Yes, it absolutely does make him a terrible person. Arthur should be more caring, more considerate. But somehow, he can’t bring himself not to feel jealous over whatever Merlin shared with Freya, and what he now has with Elena.  
  
“Of course. I almost forgot.” Arthur angrily shoves one last chunk of venison into his mouth before standing up. “I’m ready for my bath.”  
  
And so Merlin dutifully checks on the water and announces it as the perfect temperature. He helps Arthur undress, but it’s not the same as how he would help Elena undress. This is done because it’s expected of him. It’s not done because he wants Arthur to take him to bed and ravage him.  
  
For fuck’s sake. Is that where his mind is going now? This has really got to stop.  
  
Arthur sinks into the bathwater, closing his eyes. He can feel Merlin scrubbing the parts of him that he can’t reach, and suddenly it feels meaningless and cheap. He doesn’t want Merlin scrubbing him if Merlin doesn’t _mean_ it. And so he wrestles the soap and washing cloth away from the servant and declares that he’ll do it himself.  
  
And he does. It’s not as nice or as pleasant as having Merlin do it, but he gets the job done. He even manages to wash and rinse his hair, even as his servant stands back with a look of bewilderment on his face.  
  
When Arthur stands up, Merlin steps forward with a towel, but Arthur snatches it out of his grasp. “I can do it. I’m not completely _useless_ , you know.”  
  
Merlin looks more confused than ever. “But I thought that was your calling card. You know, useful in the saddle, useless everywhere else.”  
  
“Well, maybe I don’t want to be useless anymore,” Arthur retorts as he reaches for his nightclothes. “Maybe I don’t want people touching me if they don’t want to.”  
  
Merlin cocks his head to the side. “What the hell are you on about?”  
  
“Nothing,” Arthur mumbles. He struggles into the nightshirt but manages to get it on. Same goes for his sleeping trousers. “I’m just tired. You’re dismissed for the night, Merlin.”  
  
“Uh, goodnight,” Merlin says, looking as if the whole world has turned upside down.  
  
Arthur can’t blame him. He certainly feels as though the world will never right itself again.

* * *

The joust takes place at midday. Arthur wipes the ground with his opponent of course, but his triumph is short lived. As he rides a victory lap, he spots Merlin standing arm in arm with Elena. True, they’re cheering him on, but that does nothing to assuage the bitterness and jealousy coursing through his veins like poison.  
  
He is _so_ jealous, and it’s time he admitted it.

* * *

Arthur competes in a second joust the following day. This opponent is a little more skilled than his previous one, and he ends up taking a lance to the arm. His opponent’s skill is the only reason he’s injured. It has nothing to do with the fact that he was watching Merlin and Elena snuggle in the stands when he should have been focusing on the other knight. With the sharp pain clearing his head, he is able to focus on the rest of the tournament, and he still beats his opponent, but he ends up in the physician’s chambers after the joust, getting patched up by both Merlin and Gaius as he sits at the heavy wooden table, shirtless and feeling more miserable than he cares to admit.  
  
“It’s not as nasty as it looked when you took the lance to the arm,” Merlin comments as he dabs some foul-smelling balm on the wound. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s bad, but it looked way worse. I was amazed you managed to stay on your horse.”  
  
“I’m used to pain,” Arthur grits out. “As a knight, you have to have a high threshold for pain.”  
  
“Really? Then how have you managed to stay a knight?”  
  
Arthur glares at him. “I’ll have you know that I can deal with more pain than you ever will, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin smirks, amusement crossing his face. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”  
  
“That’s you done,” Gaius announces as he puts the finishing touches on the bandage wrapping Arthur’s arm. “Plenty of rest and food, Sire. Merlin, look after him.”  
  
This is the last thing Arthur wants. “I’m fine to look after myself,” he assures Gaius. “I don’t need Merlin’s help. It’s just a flesh wound.”  
  
“You should still be looked after.”  
  
“But I don’t want to be looked after.”  
  
“But you should be.”  
  
“But I don’t want to be.”  
  
Gaius looks as though he might be getting a headache. With closed eyes and a deep breath he relents. “Fine. Fine. You may return to your chambers. But get some sleep, My Lord. I’ll have Merlin check on you in the morning.”  
  
Oh joy. Something to look forward to.  
  
Arthur retreats to his chambers. He doesn’t bother to change into his nightclothes; instead he shucks his trousers so all he’s wearing is his loincloth. He doesn’t bother bathing either, since he doesn’t want to get the bandages wet. Food doesn’t sound particularly appealing either. All he really wants is sleep, and so he wiggles beneath the blankets and curls up into a ball on his uninjured side. He focuses on his breathing, fighting to drive all thoughts of Merlin and Elena out of his mind. And it must work, because the next thing he knows his door is creaking open and disorientation makes his groggy head spin.  
  
The curtains haven’t been drawn back yet, and he has the strong sense that it’s much too early for Merlin to be entering his chambers. But it _is_ Merlin, closing the door and lighting a candle so he can see.  
  
“What the bloody hell are you doing in here?” Arthur demands, sitting up much too fast, so his head spins. “It’s too early – “ The clock’s bell chimes the eleventh hour of the night, and Arthur realizes that it’s not that it’s too early, it’s that it’s too late.  
  
Merlin shrugs. “Gaius wanted me to check on you.”  
  
“At 11-o-clock at night? _Mer_ lin, I was _sleeping_!”  
  
Another shrug. “Duty waits for no one.”  
  
Arthur rolls his eyes. “I’m fine. I was getting some rest. You can go now.”  
  
“Have you eaten?”  
  
Arthur hesitates just a second too long.  
  
“Arthur, you took a lance to the arm! You need to eat!”  
  
“I’m not hungry.”  
  
In the candlelight, Merlin looks exasperated. “What the hell is wrong with you? You haven’t had any sort of appetite lately. And today – you could have dodged the lance blow, I know you could have. You’ve been awfully distracted. What’s wrong?”  
  
“I saw you with Elena,” Arthur spills before he can stop himself. “The other day. In your bedchamber. I was looking for you and someone told me you’d gone back to yours and Gaius’s quarters. I wanted to startle you, but I’m the one who got the surprise.”  
  
Merlin is quiet for a moment before saying, “I can’t see why it would matter to you if I’m seeing someone or not. I promise it won’t interfere with my work.”  
  
Arthur thinks of Gwen’s words, of her pressing it upon him that he needs to do something, that he can’t just let this slip by. And so he says, “It’s not your work I’m worried about. I’m – “ Oh god. Here it comes. “I’m _jealous_.”  
  
“Do _you_ like Elena?” Merlin asks, sounding very taken aback.  
  
“No! That’s not why. It’s you I like. You’re the one I’m jealous over. When I was with Gwen, I couldn’t get you out of my head. And now…now you’re with Elena and there’s nothing I can do about it, except create some distance between us. It’s the only way I can get past this. Just – forget it. Forget I ever said anything. It’s obvious you’re in love with Elena and I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.”  
  
Merlin is quiet for another moment, and then he says, “Actually, Elena and I are no more. We decided to end things this afternoon. When she saw how upset I was about you taking a lance to the arm – well, it raised some questions. The truth is, I can live without her. I can’t live without you. I would do anything for you, Arthur. I just – I wasn’t sure you felt the same way.”  
  
“Well, I do,” Arthur huffs out.  
  
“So, you were jealous? _This_ is why you no longer wanted me to scrub your back or help you dress or undress? _This_ is why you lost your appetite? And – today! I thought you were watching Elena and me before you took the lance, but I couldn’t be sure. But you were, weren’t you?”  
  
“I might have glanced your way once or twice,” Arthur grumbles.  
  
The next thing he knows, Merlin is kissing him, long and hard, but with the sweetness that seemed to emanate from his pores when he was with Elena. Arthur enthusiastically kisses him back, yanking him down onto the bed.  
  
Merlin nips playfully at him before pulling back. “I am so angry with you,” he informs Arthur. “Letting your jealousy distract you in the middle of a tournament – “  
  
“You can take your anger out on me if you want,” Arthur says hopefully. “Show me just how furious you are that I got myself hurt.”  
  
“Oh, I will.” Merlin’s eyes glint mischievously. “But first, you need food. After all, you need to keep your strength up for what I have planned for you.”  
  
And just like that, Arthur’s appetite returns in full force. Roast venison sounds amazing – especially if he gets to eat it in bed with Merlin. And when he says as much, Merlin leans over and kisses him again.


End file.
